Good Hair
by zedonkulouslybashful
Summary: F!Surana, who has a crush on Sten, finds the qunari while his braids are undone. Sten's hair is kinda Doc Brown- / Don King-like and the Warden, having never seen it undone before, is...surprised. But her magical mishap doesn't stop them from having fluffy smexy times and eventually something more. Pairings: Sten/F!Surana, Fail!Zevran, and implied Alistair/Leliana. Rated M. NSFW.


**Disclaimer**: These are borrowed, Bioware-owned characters.

**Prompt gist**: F!Surana, who has a crush on Sten, finds the qunari while his braids are undone. Sten's hair is kinda Doc Brown- / Don King-like and the Warden, having never seen it undone before, is...surprised.

_Doc Brown_- : / / en . wi ki ped ia / Emmett _ Brown

_Don King_- : / / en . wi ki ped ia / Don _ King _ % 28 boxing _ promoter % 29

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**Notes**: The notes at the end of this fic contain the Qunlat within. But, if you want to fact check, here's my source: dragon age . wik ia wi ki / Qunlat .

Also, within is an archaic way to make lye. Lye is very corrosive and therefore can irritate or even chemically burn skin. _**So, for your own safety, do not attempt.**_ Source: en . wi ki ped ia wi ki / Soap _ making # Soap making

Finally, this is my only explanation for why the Grease spell is in the creation school. ...Erm, wait...never mind...!

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Belated V-Day gift-fic for HarleyQuinnAddict. :)

HarleyQuinnAddict - This is a mix of funny, fluffy, and angsty. Hope that's okay.

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**For less angst**, skip sections 10 through 12. The ending is mostly fluffy, happy but we had to trudge through some sad to get there.

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**Update**: There are too many unfilled prompts on the k!meme so I posted this there as well. :)

dragon age - k ink . live journal 8033 . ? thread = 36230497 # t36230497

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**Explanation of title**: As F F . n e t is visited by people world-wide, it occurred to me that the title might not carry the same meaning as it does in the US. If you are black and have naturally straight hair, it's said to be "good hair" because it's much easier to manage.

Sten, does not have "good hair".

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-1-

Sten grimaced as he twisted the lid off of his shea butter jar. "_I knew I should have gotten more from the Arigena before coming here..._" he internally grumped.

He scooped to the bottom and along the sides for the dregs. Then, while trying to see his reflection in Alistair's dented and scratched shield, Sten applied the lotiony substance as evenly as he could to his coarse hair. The faint nutty smell of it reminded him of home; he missed Beresaad deeply...but silently.

He knew his braids weren't as tight as they should be. The hair-dressing Athloks in Par Vollen far exceeded his skill. Parting sections with his pick then gradually weaving each into place, he imagined the Athloks furrowing their brows at his clumsy attempt. He checked his profile on both sides in the shiny surface. "_It'll have to do_," he sighed, resignedly.

-2-

_A few weeks later._

After Sten walked by them, Shale asked in a low voice to Zevran, "Does it smell something..._rancid_?" Zevran frowned and nodded.

"**Did it do that?**" accused Shale.

"No! I am a gentleman, my friend. I leave my company when such things need to...occur," he returned.

They both sniffed around for the source. But after failing to find it again, Zevran looked up at her and shrugged. "Must have been something on the wind?" he offered.

Shale nodded absently then squinted in the direction of Dog. "Too many biscuits, I suspect," she said, pointing toward the animal.

"Ah. Perhaps," Zevran agreed. Then he said, glad to have an excuse to talk to his fellow elf yet again, "I'll invite Neria to change the recipe, hm?" He unconsciously waggled his brows and set off to find the mage.

Shale rolled her eyes behind his back. "_Squishy flesh creatures..._"

-3-

Neria gagged at bit as she approached Sten from down wind. The warrior was militaristically thorough in his cleansing when there was opportunity. Except lately, he wasn't washing his rank-smelling hair. And, Maker help her, she was going to find out why, even if it meant walking up on him while he was naked.

She was both relieved and disappointed when he wasn't.

While his dark skin had some droplets from his lake bath, his usually white hair was still unkempt with pink and gray in patches. "_Crusted darkspawn blood_," she guessed and tried to not retch.

"Sten?" she called.

"Yes?" He did not pause to look at her as he dabbed his upper body dry. Topless Sten was a drool-worthy but the sight was ruined by the remaining odor.

"Is everything alright?" she said, eyes watering mildly from the reek. She hoped the wind would shift soon. If Sten didn't get so cross when she used magic around him, she'd shift it herself.

"No, but that is not unexpected," Sten muttered.

"What do you mean?"

He leaned over for his tunic, then said, "Ferelden is very different than Par Vollen. For one thing, I do not know how you tolerate the smell."

The mage tilted her head in confusion and decided to be more blunt: "Sten...is there...a reason you haven't washed your hair these last few weeks?"

He blinked at her, detecting that he should be insulted by the shift in topic. "...Yes."

"And that is...?"

Sten laced up the front of his tunic, saying, "Kossith hair is different than elves. Without certain treatment, it would make putting on helmets...difficult."

"What treatment does it need?" she asked, holding up her hand to signal for him to not come forward. Neria would have pinched her robes over her face but she knew that that would be rude. She held back a cough, her eyes still watering a bit.

"I highly doubt it can be found in this country."

"Try me," she countered.

Skeptically, Sten raised his brow, then asked, "Palm oil?"

"Like from someone's hands?" Neria asked, pointing to her own palm.

"I'll take that as a 'no'. Argan oil?"

"What's an Argan?"

"...Shea butter?"

"I bartered for some _regular_ butter the other day. Would that work?"

He considered for a moment then decided it was better than going on for however much longer with increasingly nappy hair.

"Fine," he said and started unlacing his tunic.

Neria watched for a moment too long then quickly turned to get the butter. "I'll, uh, I'll be right back!"

-4-

"Bodahn, where did we put it?" she asked, irritated. Neria and the dwarf each opened and closed various jars in search of the butter.

"I found some cooking grease, would that work?"

"_Grease...!_" she thought, then grabbed a flask and cast into it. "_Ha, Ferelden __**does**__ have 'palm oil', Sten_," she thought, amused at herself.

Jumping off the wagon and running back toward the river, she called back, "Never mind, Bodahn!"

He blew some errant hair from his face and set to reorganizing his wares. "_Where did we put that butter?_" he wondered.

Not far from Bodahn, Zevran said nothing but smirked. He figured any mabari biscuit recipe would have butter as an ingredient. And, when he miraculously "found" it, Neria would naturally throw herself at him in gratitude.

...But, if she didn't, it made for a much less chaffing experience in the mean time when he thought about her in his tent.

-5-

Neria loosely shielded her eyes as she felt along the rocky alcove surrounding the lake. Reaching the end, she patted her robes once more to make sure the flask hadn't fallen out of her pocket in her haste to return. She smiled when she found it again then called, "Sten? Is it safe?"

He replied, closer to her than she expected him to be, "I am here. _You _were slow."

"Oh. Sorry."

Sten had nearly reached her, hiking up the sandy slope from the lake. She lowered her hand. White hair stood upward in all directions from his scalp.

"**Aaah!**"

He closed his eyes just in time. The mage partially blasted him with the Petrify spell. His front half was entirely covered in gravely dirt and his freshly-washed hair was a muddy tan color. Standing on sand but unable to move, he soon slide down then fell over.

Neria's eyes widened; she covered her falling expression with hands then rushed to his side. "Sten, I am **SO** sorry! I've- I've never seen your hair-"

When his lips could crack through the grit, he yelled, "Venak hol! This is why the saarebas need arvaarads! Had I the training, I'd do it myself!"

Neria didn't know what those words meant; she just knew that Sten was mad. He muttered something about Alistair failing his task but she didn't follow it. She quietly helped him up, then handed him the flask. Trying to make the joke she'd been rehearsing, she said, "It's, uh, it's palm oil," while pointing to her palm.

While he didn't laugh at her corny joke, his took the flask and examined its consistency. Apparently passing his inspection, he said, "...Thank you," then turned to re-wash. Shoulders drooping, Neria turned to go, too discouraged to voyeur as he undressed.

"Kadan?"

Another word she didn't know. "Sorry?"

"Do you know how to make lye?"

"...Like in soap?" She thought, "_For his clothes, no doubt_," mentally shrinking further.

"Yes."

She thought be a moment. "_The fire pit has plenty of ash. If I got some and mixed if with the lake water, that would work. I'd just need an egg... if it floats, then I got the ratio right. ...And some gloves. Chemically burnt, magic-flamable hands would would hurt like-_"

"Yeah, I know how," she finally said. Her posture rose; she'd prove to him that she wasn't some klutzy mage.

Sten continued, "Can you bring a pot with potatoes and eggs as well?"

"...Sure...Did you not get enough to eat at breakfast?"

"Plenty."

Neria opened her mouth to ask why but decided that, after hitting him in the gut with gravel, she could give him another ration without him having to explain.

-6-

She chanted the supplies Sten wanted all the way back to camp: "_Ash, egg, gloves, pot, potatoes, eggs. Ash, egg...Wait, why am I saying egg twice? ...Oh, right. For the lye. Ash, lye-egg, gloves, pot, potatoes, eggs..._"

Neria conveyed the list to Bodahn. As the dwarf gathered the things she requested, the mage put on some gloves and crossed to the fire pit.

Zevran strolled up to flirt with her but stopped when he saw her scooping ash into a satchel. "Is that for the new biscuit recipe?" Zevran asked, with evident disgust.

"What? Oh, no," she chuckled, "I'm making soap for Sten."

"Ah. ...Well...when you start making the biscuits, I would be happy lend my-" he paused, rocking forward so his dick was closer to her face for a moment, "assistance."

She stood and said, "I don't know, Zevran. If we can't find the butter-"

"I found it," he said with a smirk. He lowered his arms, anticipating an overjoyed hug.

She thought, "_Butter would make the eggs and potatoes taste better..._" To Zevran, she said, "Great! Can you give it to Bodahn so he can pack it for me?"

His face fell, all of his plans foiled. "...Certainly."

"_Maybe some deep mushrooms, ooh, and fire crystals! That would be tasty..._" she schemed.

Then Neria yelled, "Alistair, did you leave the rest of us any cheese?"

-7-

Sten positioned the firewood in a pile on the beach, close to the water. He realized that he didn't have any flint but then remembered that Neria could light the fire. So, he sat on the nearest log and waited, occasionally patting his hair down.

Soon he heard Neria clinking and jostling up the path with a pack, full to the seams.

"Alright," she announced with a grin, "I've got all kinds of fixings for your second-breakfast, Sten. I've got-"

"Breakfast? Did I not say I had plenty?"

Her shoulders slumped, then she said, "Well, what do you want potatoes and eggs for then?"

Sten rose from his seat, unfasten the pot from her pack, and said, "The hair treatment you are going to make requires them." He paused then said with a faint smile, "Your 'palm oil' is appreciated. But the congolene you are making for me will help it last longer."

His purple eyes looked...pleased? She had never seen him make that expression before. Her knees weakened with the idea of him looking fondly at her.

Sensing she would ask, he explained, "Congolene will straighten my hair," he gestured to his cottony mane. "Prepare the lye. I'll do the rest."

She took the pot back from him, said, "As you wish," and blushed. His expression softened even more.

-8-

The lye-potato-egg concoction smelled terrible. "Are you sure you want me to put this stuff on your head?" she asked, frowning.

"Yes."

"Okay..."

Neria took the pot off the fire, set it at the lake's edge to cool, and continued to stir.

"Sit on your heels," he directed. Obediently she did so and, to her surprise, he perpendicularly rested his head on her lap. "After you put it on my hair, it must be rinsed off quickly," he said, "or it will burn my scalp."

She nodded. But before she put the congolene on, she risked touching his hair with her ungloved fingers. It felt pleasantly wiry. Each strand seemed to want to follow its own spiraling path. She thought of a joke but didn't dare say it: "_Your hair doesn't follow the Qun!_"

Neria smiled at her cleverness and Sten thought she was smiling at him. He took her hand and kissed it, to her pleased shock.

"_Without my Asala, I am practically a Vashoth..._" he reasoned. He decided to enjoy what delights he could while being largely without a path. This Warden saved him and, without her, he might be dead...or an orge. His countenance darkened with the thought and that thought turned to his fallen Beresaad comrades. "_If they became corrupted, I hope I was the one who ended their misery._"

Her face, looking down at him angelically, was knit with confused concern.

"Begin," he said, abruptly.

"_My 'mage-ness' an issue again, I'm sure_," she assumed. But she did as instructed, albeit half-heartedly.

The foul-smelling congolene instantly and dramatically lengthened his hair. He quickly scooted over her lap and stuck his scalp under the lake water. She scrubbed the corrosive solution out of his hair then discarded the ruined gloves. When he sat up, his dripping hair was past his shoulders. The water weaved down his muscular arms and chest.

Neria sighed; it hurt to like someone that was so stubborn.

As he stood to ring out his hair, he asked, "Do you know how to braid cane-rows?"

"Cane-rows? Is that different that corn-rows?"

"...No. ...We do not have 'corn' in Par Vollen. We have sugar cane."

"Oh," she said, not knowing what 'sugar cane' was, then said, "...Erm, well yes, I can braid."

Holding a small fireball in one hand and casting a light, icy breeze with the other, she dried his now limp hair. When it was dry, she conjured grease and worked it into his scalp. Completely relaxed, he drowsily closed his eyes and let his jaw slackened. He issued groans and grunts as she worked his scalp over. Standing closer to him that needed, she took his pick, divided his hair into sections, and braided the silky strands into place. When she was finished, she kissed his temple then immediately shrank from embarrassment. She thought, "_Did I really just-_"

"Your robes are wet," he stated.

"Uh...oh, yes. From the lake water." For second, she wondered if he meant that they were wet from his groans earlier. Because they _were_ and she was paranoid that he could somehow tell. "I'll dry them," she said, then started to cast.

Sten lightly grabbed her wrist and said, "No." His eyes surveyed her form and finally rested on the laces. His thick fingers picked at them.

"...Uh...Sten?" she asked, then thought, "_Is he really asking me to take off my robes?!_"

"Yes, Kadan?" he returned, his lids slowly opening to look up at her. She gulped and unconsciously leaned forward.

"Are you...um, are- are you-?" she stammered.

"Yes," he said, a corner of his mouth slightly upturned.

"Uh, ahm, r- really?"

He nodded, unblinkingly.

One of her knees gave out but he caught her and pulled her toward him. With shaking hands she started to untie her bodice as he worked at her skirt laces. Finally her skirt puddled at her feet and her breasts fell free. He lightly touched down her abdomen to her hip, then tugged at her knickers. Intent received, she took them off as he stood to unlace his breeches.

Neria's eyes bugged out of her head and jaw dropped, salivating. His dick surely was as big as her lithe forearm. He didn't know what to make of her expression so he asked, tentatively, "Are you sure?"

"Erhm, uh, well...it's...it's been a while for me so...," she squinted an eye up at him and continued, "gently? ...Please?" Then she remembered that comment he made to Morrigan and really, _really_ hoped he was giving her a hard time.

"As you wish," he said, with a teeth-bearing smile.

Her assessment of his intense eyes, dark skin, and contrasting hair and teeth, came tumbling out of her mouth: "You're...beautiful."

She was strange. Foreign. But her awkwardness was part of her charm.

He spotted a flat, smooth surface on the rock wall surrounding them, grabbed his towel, and took her hand. They crossed to the spot together and he draped his towel around her shoulders.

Straining on her tip-toes, she reached up to hug his neck. He lifted her easily and she kissed him. He deepened it and each held the other tighter. Panting when he broke it, she exposed her neck for him to continue there. He did so, groping breast with one hand and holding her up with the other. Neria wrapped her legs around his hips and he felt his member stiffened.

"I'm ready," she said, coyly.

His hand left her breast and trailed down her side, causing her to shiver. Some pebbles from the cliff above them fell softly on the sand. Sten pressed her against the stone so he could position his cock at her center. The tip slid in easily. Her breath hitched and her eyes shot open though when he pressed further. She took his free hand and guided him to her clit. Intrigued, he said, "What is this?"

"My clit," she said, matter-of-factly, then asked, "Don't kossith women have them?"

He swallowed, his thrusts lessening, "I...I would not know." His cheeks and the rims of his ears were warm; it was not a sensation he was familiar with. But, then again, neither was having sex.

Neria tilted her head and asked, disbelievingly, "...Are you..._a virgin_?"

He shrank in stature a bit and answered slowly, "I am."

She touched his cheek. "I am...honored." She paused and added, "You're doing **GREAT** by the way." She kissed his cheek then murmured, flirtatiously, "More please."

He obliged. His calloused thumb circled and stroked her clit brilliantly and his slow thrusts were delicious. "...Do men say that women feel...pretty...here?" he ventured, referencing her entrance.

"Maybe. But...I only care what you think," she replied, bashful with her honesty. He gazed at her tenderly. She moved his hand and challenged, cheerfully, "Deeper."

He did and she threw her head back with a moan. "Kadan?" he asked, a note of concern in his voice.

"More," she panted, "please."

Deeper he went then, gradually, faster as well. She flailed, wishing she had a crevice in the stone to hold onto. More gravel from above fell around them.

"Sten," she panted. Their eyes met and she continued, "When I come, it's going to feel really tight in there. But it's a really, _**really**_good thing, okay?" He nodded. She again challenged, smiling, "Okay. Give me everything you've got."

He held one of her wrists against the rock and pounded into her, fast and deep. Unlike the Circle, she could be loud here. And she didn't hold back. The earth quaked around and beneath them, larger rocks falling from above.

She also did not exaggerate; her release for amazingly tight around him. It felt like she was pulling his seed from the source. He winced with pleasure. Only too late did he realize he might be bruising her wrist.

Sweaty and happy, she dismounted, waved her other hand over her bruising one, and said, "There. All better."

He loved her. He knew it. She was, indeed, his Kadan.

"_And I am Vashoth now_," he decided. It didn't feel nearly as horrible as he once believed it to be.

-9-

_A few weeks later._

Sten played fetch with Dog while Neria finished cooking the dough with her various fire spells. Zevran sauntered up but his expression fell when he saw that she was finishing, not starting, to make the new treats for Dog. He tried to gain composure, "Hello, my Warden. Is the new recipe working out?" Maybe his plans could be savaged.

"I don't know," she answered. Then she called, "Sten, honey, could you bring Dog over? The biscuits are done and so are your cookies."

"_Did she call Sten, 'honey'?_" he asked himself.

Dog barked happily when Neria threw him a treat. And Sten looked into her eyes as he bit into the warm cookie. She smiled up at him.

Zevran mentally answered his own question, "_Yes, definitely_," and turned on his heels.

Sten and Neria didn't notice.

-10-

_Months later, in Denerim._

Casear thankfully had the ingredients she needed. Neria mixed the avocado, olive oil, and egg yolk with her mortar and pestle. She teared up when she dropped in the lavender essential oil; she made it from the flowers Sten picked for her.

She or Alistair had to die killing the Archdemon. It was the only way. "_I wonder if he is making something for Leliana_," she thought, "_...Probably so. He's a good guy._"

A tear dropped into the mixture. She kept stirring; it seemed appropriate.

-11-

_The following evening._

Leliana screamed, "No!" But the Archdemon already lay toppled over, lifeless.

The Blight was over...as was the noble line of Theirin.

_The next day._

Leliana shook and wailed in Neria's arms during Anora's speech. It could have been prevented, maybe, but she would never tell her. That magic was surely of the darkest kind. And Alistair was a good man, refusing the witch.

Sten would have done that, if he were a Warden. So she knew it was the right thing.

_In the Landsmeet Chamber._

This elf woman had changed. And he had as well, because of her. Sten glanced at his sword, Asala, then at her. He owed her his life and his honor. "Would your duties...prevent you from coming to Par Vollen?" He thought but did not say, "_with me?_"

But she heard his intent. She gotten pretty good at hearing things he meant but didn't say.

"No," she said, taking his hand.

-12-

_Years later._

Most thought she was just a viddathari, favored for also being a Grey Warden who helped end the Ferelden Blight. But his assigned mate knew better. If the Arishok wanted to defile himself with her, that _basra_ elf, so be it. She was not without pleasurable _kossith_ company.

"Your hair needs treatment, Arishok," Neria whispered.

He tried not to smile. "As you wish, Kadan."

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**Sten's hair, post-treatment**: images2 . wi kia . no cookie _ cb20090809033706 / dragon age / images / 0 / 09 / Sten _ concept . j p g

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**Notes** (so you don't have to look things up):

Beresaad = A scouting company (military unit) which belongs to the vanguard of the antaam, sent to "answer questions" for the Arishok. Literally means "those who reach ahead."

Athlok = worker

Venak hol = "Wearying one". A mild insult.

Arvaarad = "One Who Holds Back Evil"; a Qunari who watches over the saarebas (Qunari mages) and hunts Tal-Vashoth.

Kadan = Literally, "where the heart lies." An all-purpose word for a "person one cares about," including colleagues, friends and loved ones. Sometimes also "the center of the chest".

Asala = "Soul."

Vashoth = "Grey Ones"; those who abandon the Qun.

Viddathari = A convert to the Qun.

Bas/Basra = Literally, "thing." Foreign to the Qun. Implication of being purposeless.


End file.
